


Company Picnic

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crack, GABRIEL USES COMIC SANS, GABRIEL YOU DUMB HUNK, Gen, Humor, LIGUR VOICE:YOU'RE DOING AMAZING SWEETIE, M/M, MY VOICE: URIEL YOU'RE DOING AMAZING SWEETIE, Other, YOUNG MAN YOUR GRILL IS ON FIRE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 13:45:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19335730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Aziraphale read over the invitation once more. The heading read COMPINY PICNIC. It might as well have read ‘Armageddon 2: Electric Boogaloo.’





	Company Picnic

**Author's Note:**

> I realize a lot of these tropes are from a distinctly American company picnic. Blame Gabriel's dumb American self.

“Angel!” Crowley called, bursting into the bookshop with a ghastly neon green piece of paper grasped in his hand. “Have you checked your post?”

“Not in the last hundred or so years. Why?” Aziraphale was sitting with a cup of tea, and watched calmly as Crowley slammed the door behind him, locking it and flipping the sign to ‘closed’ with a gust of demonic fury.

“It’s--I think you should look--it’s--well, look at it!” Crowley flailed, shoving the paper at him.

The first thing Aziraphale noticed is that it was printed in Comic Sans. The second thing was the glaring typos.

“Oh, _fuck_.”

“What are we going to _do?_ ” Crowley said desperately.

“Do you think they’ll notice if we don’t show up?”

“ _Do you think they’ll notice_ ,” Crowley repeated sarcastically. “Oh, I don’t know, what do _you_ think?”

Aziraphale sighed. Rubbing at his temple, he read aloud, “Vollyballs. Water Balloon Fite. Fun in the Sin. Hmmm. I rather think they mean sun.”

“Do they?” Crowley collapsed into Aziraphale’s lap. “We’ll have to go, and we’ll be watched like--like--oh, what’s the thing?”

“Do you recall, at the last one, Hastur brought potato salad.”

“There was no paprika,” Crowley replied miserably.

Aziraphale read over the invitation once more. The heading read COMPINY PICNIC. It might as well have read ‘Armageddon 2: Electric Boogaloo.’

“Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it. We’ll simply have to attend.”

 

~

 

Gabriel was wearing a bright pink apron that said ‘May I Suggest the Sausage’ with an arrow pointing suggestively downwards. Beelzebub was wearing a matching one.

“Do they know what that means?” Crowley hissed in Aziraphale’s ear.

Aziraphale shook him off, wandering over to the table already full of what one might call dishes, and placing his contribution in the midst. He had brought a caramelized leek pasta salad with bacon and goat cheese. Of course, he had no intention of actually consuming anything here, if he could get away with it.

 

~

 

Ligur approached Crowley with a water balloon. “Are you ready for the fight later?”

“Why?” Crowley asked, suspicious.

“I’m going to ruin your hair,” Ligur said, grinning, tossing the water balloon from one hand to another, “In front of your boyfriend.”

“You wouldn’t,” Crowley said, backing away. 

 

~

 

“Stop being such a spoilsport,” Uriel said, dragging Aziraphale towards the volleyball court.

“There is entirely too much sand.”

“You’ll have fun for once.”

“I _won’t_.”

 

~

 

“We should grill more often,” Gabriel said. The grill was on fire. “We’re so good at it.”

“Yeszz,” Beelzebub agreed.

 

~

 

Back on the court, Hastur stabbed the volleyball with a knife.

“You’re doing great, babe!” Ligur called from the sidelines.

 

~

 

“And then Sandalphon said it stood for ‘Bring Your Own Beelzebub,’ so I did!” Gabriel said, wrapping a massive arm around the Lord of the Flies’ shoulders.

A few demons laughed awkwardly. Nearby, the potato salad caught on fire.

 

~

 

Crowley finally found Aziraphale tucked away behind a trash can, dusting sand off his jacket.

“How much longer until we can leave, do you think?”

Aziraphale gave him a stormy look. “I have sand _everywhere_.”

“Sorry,” Crowley said, “Do you want me to, ah--”

Before he could attempt to help, Michael walked up to them, holding a beer bottle. “Hiding away over here, are you?”

“No,” Aziraphale said quickly.

“Well, I am.” Michael took a sip of the beer. “Care for one?”

She manifested two more bottles and offered them up.

“Might as well,” Crowley shrugged, taking them. He opened one for Aziraphale and handed it over. “Cheers.”

 

~

 

“You have beautiful eyeszz,” Beelzebub said.

“Thank you!” Gabriel replied. He was blushing. His spatula was on fire.

 

~

 

“I always thought you were kind of a wanker,” Crowley said, sitting in the grass between Aziraphale’s legs.

“I never much cared for you, either,” Michael replied. She was sitting next to them on the ground. Beer bottles surrounded them in a semicircle.

“You’re all right, though,” Crowley said. He leaned back into Aziraphale’s chest.

“I’m drunk,” Aziraphale added to the conversation.

 

~

 

“You can’t bring a knife to a water balloon fight,” Uriel said, pitching a balloon at an already soaked Hastur.

“Why not?” Hastur screamed, gripping his knife and lunging at her.

Uriel punched him in the gut. “It’s against the rules!”

Hastur kicked at her and screamed.

“You’re doing amazing, sweetheart!” Ligur yelled to him, also soaked but less angry about it.

 

~

 

“Why--why do we even have these get--get-to--uh, picnics?” Crowley complained, fully slumped against Aziraphale’s thigh. He was very comfortable.

“ _Gabriel_ ,” Michael and Aziraphale both answered in sync.

~

 

“So, are you the Lord of _all_ of the Flies?” Gabriel asked.

“Yeszz,” Beelzebub said. “All of them.”

“Impressive.” Gabriel looked in awe. 

The grill had burned to the ground, and the grass was on fire.

 

~

 

Sandalphon dragged Uriel off of Hastur. “We’re out of water balloons,” he said cheerfully.

“Already?” Uriel asked. “Oh, well. Until next time.”

Hastur and Uriel shook hands.

“Did you have fun, darling?” Ligur asked as Hastur returned to his side.

Hastur grinned as he helped him straighten his wig.

 

~

 

“You know, I used to be a messenger,” Gabriel said.

“Explainszz why you were so good at making the invitations,” Beelzebub said with sincerity.

Gabriel smiled brightly.

 

~

 

“Everything’s on fire,” Michael pointed out. “I think we’re okay to leave.”

“Wasn’t this how the last one ended as well?” Aziraphale said, starting to sober up.

“Hawks!” Crowley said, and snapped his fingers, apropos of nothing. “That’s what I was thinking of.”

 

~

 

~end~


End file.
